One time, we got on a plane after a show and he spent practically the whole flight in the bathroom. When he finally came out, he had this hairbrush, the kind with the fur bristles, twisted up in his hair, hanging down. He was soaking wet, covered in water, like he tried to take a bath in the airplane sink. He flopped down on the floor, fussing with the brush caught in his hair, and never went back to his seat, landed that way. Hospital-crazy.

After one show, Mike and I stayed back, like we normally did, and showered. Ed didn't shower. He jumped into the limo right off the stage and went straight to the airplane. When Mike and I rolled up, laughing, joking, eating a couple of barbecue sandwiches we had ordered, Eddie was sitting there drinking his wine out of the bottle. He went off on us. "Don't ever fucking make me wait," he said. "Without me, you're nothing. You need me. You'll see. At the end of this tour, you guys will have nothing. You're going to have to call me if you ever want to tour again."